


Three Seconds and an Invitation

by analineblue



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Christmas, First Kiss, First Time, Get Together, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analineblue/pseuds/analineblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn’t do holidays, but Rodney thinks maybe he can change his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Seconds and an Invitation

Rodney hates this time of year. 

Not because he has any issues with Christmas, or Hanukah or Kwanza or whatever, but… Well, Rodney hates this time of year because of John Sheppard. In fact, he hates any time the topic of leave time comes up, and he hates it because he knows John hates it, even though John would never, ever admit that, certainly not to him. That time at the Samhain festival over on M5X-997 didn’t count because Rodney knew John had been at least a little drunk on the Galatians surprisingly potent ale at the time.

All the same, John’s words from that night seem to worm their way into Rodney’s consciousness at the most inconvenient times.

When John is about to run straight into a wraith trap to save all of their asses, for example, back on whatever-that-planet-is-called, the one with the cliffs and the landscapes that would have almost been breathtaking except that it had all been a _trap_ and Rodney had been convinced that this time, they really weren’t going to make it. And there’s John, with his P-90 raised defensively, calmly, that look in his eyes, the one that seems to say only one thing— _I’m ready to die_ —and even though Rodney knows that the most logical explanation is that this is just a sentiment that’s been drilled into Johns brain through years and years of military training, rather than an actual indication of John’s will to live, or not, it doesn’t make him want to stop John any less.

He doesn’t though.

Because of course John is ready to die. He’s a soldier and that’s what soldiers _do_ , but all the same sometimes Rodney can’t stop hearing John’s voice, back on M5X-997, quiet, a stark contrast against the laughter and the music, and the general merrymaking of the festival stretched out below them, down at the bottom of the hill, lanterns strung like orange Christmas lights along the tents, and he can’t help but remember how the stars above them had been like a blanket that night. It was impossible to forget how far away they were from everything when you looked up at stars like that, not dotting the darkness but covering it with sparkling light.

And then John had said to him, with complete and maybe slightly drunken honesty, “I don’t _have_ anyone, Rodney, never have.”

Rodney had pressed on then, having had a little too much of that ale himself—he remembers how it’d warmed his cheeks and his throat and his chest, especially his chest, because at John’s words, Rodney’s chest had tightened, and he’d wanted more than anything in that moment to prove John wrong. He’d had an absurd thought then too, about just how wrong John was, and about how he would prove it to him, if he had to, but he couldn’t say it. Instead he’d babbled a few more questions, eyes fixed on John’s profile as he stared into the darkness above them.

_“That doesn’t mean you can’t go _home_ , does it? What about your family? Your parents?”_

_John shook his head._

_“Hometown? Old friends?”_

_At this John let out a surprised bark of a laugh. “No,” he said, sounding amused. “I’m not really the kind of person to inspire ties, I guess.”_

_“What?” It took Rodney a second to process what John meant. “Oh, oh, you mean _those_ kind of ties,” Rodney said, feeling stupid and a little naïve._

_“Yeah, Rodney, those kind of ties,” John said with a strange laugh, one Rodney couldn’t read; didn’t want to, maybe._

Rodney hadn’t said anything after that.

And they hadn’t brought it up since.

**

When the question of leave comes around, John is suspiciously absent, usually. Either that, or he has some kind of strange, impossible-to-argue against excuse that keeps him on base when everyone else is trying to figure out how to best maximize their time back on earth, with their families. 

Last Christmas, it was orders from Elizabeth to have one of the jumpers tested on a long-range mission before the end of the year. This summer, he’d volunteered as a test subject for one of Carson’s experiments on the effects of human DNA on various insect species, something that seemed like a really, really bad idea, even for John. 

And Rodney already knows what it will be this time around--snowboarding on M4X-850. Snowboarding is something John has always wanted to try, and because John is, well, _John_ , it makes sense that he’d want to try it on this particular planet, where immensely powerful wind storms make even landing a jumper impossible most months of the year, but which conveniently calm down just enough to make for the most amazing snow conditions in the galaxy for approximately three weeks each winter.

Conveniently, these three weeks just happen to fall over their break this year.

This doesn’t mean Rodney can’t ask anyway though.

Even though he knows it will probably make John feel uncomfortable, and even though he knows it will probably result in several days of uncomfortable almost-silences in the mess hall afterward, until John convinces himself that Rodney hasn’t asked him to come home with him for the holidays out of pity, but because, well, because he’s John’s _friend_ , and that’s what friends do, right?

Besides, he’s been thinking about this for a long time--it sort of seems inevitable at this point.

He blames Jeannie, at least for part of it.

Last year, when Rodney had been back on earth for the first time in almost a year, Jeannie had asked about John, had actually kind of yelled a little at Rodney for leaving John alone on Atlantis, instead of inviting him to come to Vancouver with him, and so of course, after that, Rodney couldn’t stop imagining John there, leaning lazily against the door frame in Jeannie’s kitchen, or reading a book by the fire. Rodney knows John has a red sweater (he’d found it at the bottom of a drawer in John’s quarters once when John was in the infirmary and had asked Rodney to bring him a change of clothes) and so for whatever reason, Rodney imagines him wearing that, in this slightly dysfunctional vision of his. John is smiling, too, always.

Rodney is imagining John as a part of his family; he recognizes this, and he knows it’s a little weird, but he goes with it, because it makes him feel warm all over, like he’d felt that night looking up at the stars on M4X-992. And if this is some indication of something he should really be thinking more about, Rodney doesn’t really care; he _chooses_ not to care.

He simply wants John there. Wants John to share what he feels when he’s sitting there at the table with Jeannie and Caleb and Madison. He wants to tell John that he knows what it feels like too, to be alone—-after all, this thing with Jeannie, this being invited to holidays and being part of her family thing, all of this is new to him. He thought he’d lost all of this a long time ago, but then one day she’d just _appeared_ , and everything had changed. And he wants John to know that he’s willing to share this, whatever it is, to the extent that he can.

He wants John to belong somewhere. John deserves this, at least, for risking his life so many times for all of them.

And whatever, even if John says no, he figures that at the very least he can count it as one of those random acts of kindness Teyla is always going on about, which has to be good for something.

**

Timing has never really been one of Rodney’s strong suits, and in retrospect, cornering John in his quarters after they’d both spent an hour and a half being berated by Elizabeth for failing to report that the citizens of M3X-559 had in fact made a passing mention in the spring that their corn crop had been in danger of failing this year (they weren’t mind readers—-how could they have predicted that by ‘slight danger’ they’d actually meant _famine_?), probably isn’t the best time to bring up a sensitive subject like this with John, but… He does it anyway.

Rodney can tell by the set of John’s jaw, and by the way he tenses up when Rodney brushes past him to take a seat at his desk, that it’s not a good time, but it’s hard for him to abort a plan once he’s set it into motion, and so he just blurts it out anyway.

“Can I ask you a question? Well, it’s more of an invitation, than a question, I suppose, but—"

“Shoot,” John says, but he looks suspicious, and Rodney is really starting to have a bad feeling about this.

“I uh… Do you… Do you have plans for the break? Christmas, I mean. Whatever.”

John blinks. “Well, the snow on—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know about the snow on M4X-850, I was on that mission, remember? I thought maybe we could stop there for a few days on our way back. The planet doesn’t start becoming, you know, deadly, until mid-January this year, right?”

John looks confused. “You want to come snowboarding with me?”

“I— What?” Rodney shakes his head. “No, of course not. I’d…watch, or something.”

“You want to watch me snowboard in your off-time.”

“Well, just for a few days. I figured otherwise…”

“Otherwise?” John asks, eyebrows raised.

“Otherwise, you’d say no,” Rodney huffs. “You know what, just forget it. Forget I asked.”

Rodney turns to leave, gets up, and is about to approach the door when John sighs, loudly.

“What?” Rodney snaps, whirling around to glare at John.

“You didn’t ask me anything, McKay.”

“Yes I did!” John is eyeing him with raised eyebrows. “And don’t look at me like that. I asked you if you wanted to come home with me to Jeannie’s for Christmas, and you totally—" Rodney stops when he realizes that actually maybe he hadn’t mentioned the whole coming-home bit. “Well, whatever, I’m asking you now, so just go ahead and turn me down. It’s not like I haven’t heard your weird mysterious excuses before.”

“Mysterious excuses?”

“Yeah, the orders from Elizabeth or Carson or whoever it is that always keep you here.”

“I didn’t think it was so mysterious, Rodney.”

“Well, it is. Everyone wonders about it.”

“Huh,” John says, sounding genuinely surprised.

Thankfully, Rodney’s radio crackles to life just then, and he’s momentarily saved. Zelenka’s team has returned from the planet with the volcanoes (Rodney never could remember the name of that one), and has brought something back that apparently he needs to see _right now_.

“Think about it,” he says as the door swishes open in front of him, already radioing back to Zelenka that he’s on his way before he can hear John’s response, or lack thereof.

**

“I swear, it’s like pulling teeth sometimes,” Rodney says, poking at his food, confused by the look on Teyla’s face until he realizes what he’s said.

“Oh, sorry,” he says around a mouthful of what taste like day-old mashed potatoes. “It’s a phrase we use to describe when someone makes something extremely difficult.”

“Frustrating, would also be a good way to describe it,” he adds as John slides in next to Teyla, an easy smile on his face as he asks if he can join them.

“So, what are we talking about,” John asks Teyla, full of his usual unnerving charm, the bastard.

“Ah, colonel,” Rodney says quickly, giving John a pointed glare. “I was just explaining the phrase ‘pulling teeth’ to Teyla.”

John gives him an odd look, and Teyla asks, “How would you describe this, John?”

“Well, it’s a phrase you’d use when someone’s making something unnecessarily difficult. Extracting information from a criminal, for example.”

Rodney rolls his eyes. “That’s a terrible example.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

Rodney sighs.

Teyla looks from Rodney to John, and then smiles knowingly. “Yes, I think I understand.”

“Great,” John says, and transfers his chocolate pudding over to Rodney’s tray with a disarming smirk.

Rodney really hates John, sometimes.

**

Two days later, they’re on M7X-542, otherwise known as the planet with the volcanoes (Volcano Land, John likes to call it, as if it’s some kind of amusement park), because Elizabeth thought it’d be a good idea for Rodney and John to check out whether or not the cave Zelenka and his team uncovered actually had anything worth bringing back inside.

They’re walking down the flight of narrow stairs that leads to the cave, and John’s leading. Rodney can already hear the whirring of various consoles and devices coming to life below them, before they even reach the bottom, so he’s a little distracted, but he thinks he hears John say something that sounds like “The thing is…” which really sounds like the lead-in to something unpleasant, so Rodney ignores him.

They reach the bottom of the stairs, and Rodney sighs, punching a few buttons on the scanner in front of him, as he tried to decide which device to tackle first.

John’s back is turned, and he’s doing that thing with his feet that he does when he’s uncomfortable, tapping at the ground a little, like he’s feeling for a trap door or something.

“What?” Rodney asks, eventually.

“The thing is, I’m just not that big on holidays,” John says, without turning around.

“Okay. So?”

“So while I’m flattered, I think I’m going to have to decline your offer. You’ll have a lot more fun without me, I’m sure. And you won’t have to watch me teach myself how to snowboard. I’d imagine that would get boring pretty fast.”

John has turned around now, and there’s just a hint of an apology in his eyes.

Rodney sighs. “Fine, okay, I get it. You think I invited you because I feel bad, because I know you don’t have anywhere else to go—"

“McKay—"

“That’s not it though, I really just thought that—"

“McKay!” John’s raising his voice and has taken a step closer to him, so that Rodney can see his eyes a little more clearly now, and he’s surprised that instead of anger there, he finds something else; something like fear, but not exactly—-doubt, maybe. Wariness. It leaves Rodney with a cold, slightly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I said no, okay?”

“Yes, yes, I got that, thank you.”

“Rodney, look—"

“Never mind,” Rodney snaps, turning away, not wanting to meet John’s eyes. “Sorry,” he adds, because somehow it seems appropriate. “Just forget it, okay?”

Rodney pulls the scanner out from his pocket again, and starts poking at the buttons, trying to fill his brain with something else other than that look in John’s eyes, and to stop himself from wondering what it means, if anything. He wants to ask but knows that he can’t, because even though they’re friends, Rodney knows that there are some things you can’t force, especially with John.

When he looks up from the scanner again, John is leaning against the wall. His feet are still.

**

Rodney is really, really surprised when John brings up the subject again a few days later, over their weekly game of chess, which Rodney had stupidly thought was going to be called off for some reason. John had been a little guarded though, since their conversation in Volcano Land Cave, which had led to Rodney backing off too, and so… Come to think of it, until John had shown up at his quarters just now, it’d been about two days since they’d spoken.

He’s got John’s knight cornered on the board, or he thinks he does, but then John pulls off a move he’s clearly been planning since the beginning of the game, which leaves Rodney sputtering—and John in unquestioning control of the center of the board--and as Rodney’s desperately trying to regroup, that’s when John comes out with it.

“Be sure to thank Jeannie and Caleb for the offer, okay?”

“What offer?” Rodney says distractedly, concentrating on the board. He looks up at John. “Oh, right. Well, it’s not like I’d asked her yet or anything. But I know she wouldn’t mind. She likes you. And she mentioned before that I was welcome to…” John’s giving him a strange look, and it breaks his momentum. “Um, she… She told me before that guests are welcome. It’s a big house.”

“Don’t you think she probably had someone more along the lines of Katie Brown in mind?”

Rodney rolls his eyes. “Jeannie can’t stand Katie.”

Then he makes his move, and finds it incredibly annoying that John eyes the board, squints for a moment, and then makes his move, with barely any contemplation at all, as if Rodney’s just playing right into his hands. Bastard.

“So you just thought you’d go ahead and invite me without asking her, is what you’re saying.”

“What? No, that’s—that’s not the point. And besides, what do you care, I thought you wanted to risk your life jumping off a mountain on an oversized skateboard instead.”

John smiles at this. “So I guess I should just thank you then.”

“For god’s sake, John,” Rodney grumbles, staring at the board in dismay, and realizing the game is completely over for him. “I wasn’t offering you a kidney.”

John chuckles. “Checkmate,” he offers genially, and Rodney wishes there was a way to overturn the board on him that wouldn’t result in his becoming butt of John’s lame jokes until pretty much the end of time.

**

It isn’t until he’s lying in bed later that night, trying to fall asleep, and failing, that he realizes that maybe John was trying to tell him something during that chess game.

**

“Rodney, you do realize what time it is, right?” John asks groggily as he leans against the door frame, looking half-dead, wearing that ridiculous panda shirt, and…not much else.

“Jesus, do you think you could put some pants on?” Rodney huffs, and pushes past John, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

John sighs, walks over to the other side of the bed and retrieves a threadbare pair of pajama pants from a pile of dirty clothes, and pulls them on.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve for someone who just woke me up in the middle of the night, you know that?”

Rodney rolls his eyes as John settles back onto the bed, leaning back against his pillow.

“This better be good.”

“I figured it out,” Rodney announces confidently. “And now I’m asking again.”

“You figured _what_ out, Rodney?”

“You. You wanted me to ask you again to come with me to Jeannie’s, and so I’m asking.”

“I—-What?”

“When we were playing chess earlier.”

John is silent.

“So, what do you say?”

John closes his eyes, laughs a little. “Sorry, McKay. I don’t know what you think you figured out, but… It’s nothing personal, okay, I just don’t do holidays.”

Rodney rolls his eyes. “The holiday part is like, one _day_. You realize that, right?”

“Yeah, I realize that.”

Rodney swallows, because he recognizes this tone of voice. It usually means that John has finally run out of patience, and that’s never a good thing.

“Look. Just because I don’t have,” John’s voice is low, deliberate, “what _you_ have, it doesn’t mean I need to borrow it, okay?” He sits up straight, eyes wide open, and clear. “It’s a nice gesture, and I appreciate it, I do, but just trust me on this. I said no, and I meant it.”

“Fine. I just thought that when you brought it up earlier, it was because--"

“Well, you were wrong.” Then John leans back against the pillows again, and lets out a long breath. “Let’s just forget it and call it a night, okay?”

Rodney feels the fight deflate out of him as he watches John paste on his fake, everything’s-all-right smile, a look that’s usually reserved for natives who’ve pissed him off or captors he’s trying to bargain his release from.

“Sure, John,” he says, and does just that, he calls it a night.

Or a friendship, whatever, he’s not sure anymore.

**

Except that he finds that he can’t just let it go like that.

He can’t just tell himself they’re not as good of friends as he thought they were and be done with it. Because it bothers him. Because he doesn’t like feeling like he screwed up when he was just trying to do something _nice_.

And he doesn’t like how John doesn’t quite meet his eyes that often anymore, or how he hasn’t had time to share his meals with the team in a week, and he really, really doesn’t like that when the time for their chess game rolls around again, John is suspiciously nowhere to be found.

He shows up three hours later in a jumper—-"Joyriding," he says with a lopsided grin to Lorne, and instead of just asking John if he’s up for a game now, like he’d planned, Rodney finds himself walking in the opposite direction, and heading for the lab, where he stays for the next three days, give or take, until Elizabeth orders him back to Volcano Land with a science team, sans John this time, which comes as a sort of relief.

John shows up anyway the next day though—-his day off. He says he wants to come along for the ride, just in case any lights need to be turned on, or whatever. He has a thing for volcanoes too, apparently. He’s thinking about going on a hike, to get a closer look, while Rodney and his team do their thing in the caves.

They don’t say much on the ride over, or on the trail that leads to the caves, and it isn’t until John announces he’s going to head off on his hike, that Rodney forces himself to actually look at him. He’s wearing his standard BDUs and a green long sleeved hiking shirt—-the kind you’d see a park ranger wearing, Rodney thinks—-and is carrying a small backpack, with a water bottle hanging off the back, a look that Rodney thinks throws the whole ensemble slightly off-balance.

“Be careful,” Rodney says without thinking, and watches John smirk at him under his incredibly dorky sunhat.

“I’ll stay in radio contact. If you don’t hear from me in two hours, feel free to send out a search party.”

Rodney watches him go, ridiculous hat bobbing across the dusty red landscape until he turns a corner, and disappears down another trail.

**

It’s been two hours and ten minutes and Rodney is livid. The rest of his team think he’s lost it, clearly, but he’s not sure that he even cares. It’s been two hours and _ten minutes_. John said he’d stay in radio contact, but John is not responding to his calls over the radio, and hasn’t been for the past twenty minutes. He hasn’t been checking in at regular intervals either, and even though this wasn’t explicitly agreed upon, Rodney thinks it should be understood, unstable terrain and all. Rodney’s this close to calling back to Atlantis for back-up when he hears a familiar voice crackling in his ear.

And instead of snapping at John, like he should be, all he can say is, “John, thank god.”

And then, “Where are you? And do not even tell me you don’t know, because I am _not_ coming to get you if you’re lost in some stupid volcano somewhere.”

John arrives back at the cave about 40 minutes later, grinning like an idiot, and looking a little like an oversized boy scout, covered in red soot from head to toe. He smells like sweat, and sulfur, but when he strides over and pulls a black, nubbly-looking rock out of his pocket, about the size of a half-dollar, and offers it to Rodney with a sheepish, “I don’t know, I thought you and Zelenka would have fun poking at it with one of your ancient devices or something,” Rodney’s a little ashamed to admit that this is the happiest he’s been in weeks.

**

Later that night, when John knocks on his door after dinner, holding up a six pack with his eyebrows raised expectantly, Rodney grabs his coat and is halfway through the door before John even has the chance to say “beer on the pier”. 

**

Out on the east pier, the lights of Atlantis are impressive, as always, jutting up around them like some strange alien skyline. Which, Rodney supposes, it kind of is. They’re on their second beer, and Rodney feels relaxed--good, even--and he realizes what a relief this is, because it’s been a long time since he’s felt this calm, let alone felt this calm around John. Rodney watches John lean back on his elbows, and let out a pleased hum as he stares up at the stars.

“Hard to believe that this time next week I’ll be on my way back to earth,” Rodney says, after they spend a few minutes in comfortable silence, letting the lights and the stars settle into the landscape around them. “What about you? Looking forward to your little snowboarding adventure?”

“Sure,” John says, though Rodney can’t tell if he means it or not. “Can’t wait.”

“I could go with you,” Rodney says, and the words surprise him as much as he’s sure they surprise John.

He hadn’t even realized he’d thought about this before, but suddenly Rodney realizes that this is kind of what he’s been thinking all along. That spending time with John when they weren’t risking their lives, or under the constant threat of attack, wherever that happened to be—-even if it meant freezing his ass off on some mountain, instead of hanging out by a warm fire in Vancouver with Jeannie--is actually the only thing that matters about this whole holiday thing, in the end. He’s not quite sure what to make of that, but it reminds him a little of warm Galatian ale, and red sweaters, which is kind of unnerving.

“I’m sure you don’t want to do that, McKay,” John says calmly.

“Sure I do, I...” Rodney finishes off the end of his beer. “The important thing is...being with people, you know?”

“There aren’t many people on M4X-850 this time of year, Rodney.”

“You know what I mean.” Rodney clears his throat. “You, uh… You told me before, a long time ago, at that festival with the crazy moonshine-ale, that you weren’t the kind of person who inspired making ties, but I disagree. I think you’re wrong. Not that this would be the first time,” he adds, rolling his eyes a little.

“Huh,” John says, popping the tab, and handing Rodney another beer. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“I want us-- I want you to--”

“I can’t,” John says quickly. “I told you.”

“Not with Jeannie. I’m talking about the mountains.”

“Mountains?”

“Yeah, with the snow, and the deadly windstorms? We could just do that. Forget Earth, forget Jeannie.” Rodney clears his throat. “And John, I uh… You should know that I…”

And that, right there, is the moment when Rodney realizes it.

That this isn’t really about inviting John to stay with him at Jeannie’s, it’s about admitting that he wants this thing with John to be something else, something _more_. 

More than a friendship, more than John being his commanding officer, more than John saving his life, and him saving John’s, and trusting each other, and having a great time exploring the Pegasus galaxy, he wants John to depend on him, wants to be able to ask John to come home with him for Christmas, and have John say _yes_ , every time, he wants--

“Shit,” Rodney finishes. “Shit, John.” He stands up, panicking.

John is staring at him like he’s lost his mind, and really, he feels like he kind of has.

“I’m sorry, I— John, I,” he starts, but he can’t do it, can’t say it, not like this, not on such short notice. “I have to go.”

**

It doesn’t take long for John to catch up with him, of course.

“Rodney, talk to me,” John says, barely out of breath, even though Rodney’s huffing and puffing, bent over at the waist.

They’re in one of the back hallways leading out to the pier, and the lights flicker on and off above them several times before finally settling on _on_ , and Rodney wonders if John is angry. But John doesn’t look angry, John looks worried.

_He should be_ , Rodney’s thinking bitterly, because if there’s one thing John Sheppard is not, it’s willing to have this conversation with him right now, that much Rodney is sure of.

“What’s wrong?” John asks, fingers curled tight over Rodney’s shoulders, forcing him to stand up straight, and not leaving any room for Rodney to move away, or, well, anything.

Rodney’s forced to look into John’s eyes because there’s nowhere else to look with John staring at him like that from a foot away, and before he knows what he’s saying, he’s telling John, “I figured out why I wanted you to come with me to Jeannie’s. Why I wanted to go to M4X-850 with you.”

“Okay, why?”

“Because I… I…” Rodney closes his eyes. “God, I can’t believe I’m saying this. Can I just… Can I kiss you, John?”

John’s hands go stiff on Rodney’s shoulders, and there’s a split second where everything turns silent, and still.

Rodney counts the throbbing of his pulse, his heart pounding in his chest, because there doesn’t seem to be anything else to do, until John answers him.

_One, two_ \--and then on _three_ , John is walking him backwards, and pressing him up against the nearest wall, and kissing _him_. Warm and slow at first, a little cautious, maybe a little rusty, Rodney is thinking, and then John’s hands move from his shoulders, ghosting along his jaw line, and then down his neck, across his chest, and over his stomach, resting on his hips, and Rodney wraps his arms around the small of John’s back, feeling the curve of John’s spine, even through several layers of cotton, feels John arch a little into the touch, kind of like he wants this as much as Rodney does, and all Rodney can think of is that this feels like _home_ , this shared space between them, so much more than anywhere else; it always has.

“I want you to be my family, John,” Rodney whispers against John’s neck, and when John breathes “yeah, okay” against his lips, and kisses him again without hesitation, he realizes that maybe, just maybe, John already _is_.

**end**


End file.
